Did you know that a butterfly only lives about a year? Think about it. One shot, one year to achieve everything you want to be.
Did you know that I just made that butterfly fact up? And that despite the fact that I have no idea how long a butterfly's life expectancy is, you probably believed it anyway? People are so quick to believe everything they hear.
Having a name like Iris, I had to learn pretty quickly that people actually believed me when I told them that yes, I was named after a part of the eye, even though my delivery was soaked with sarcasm.
I had this theory in high school that I could say the most ridiculous thing, like my middle name was Retina and my last name was Cornea, and people would just assume that I was telling the truth because I didn't appear to be the type of person that would lie.
And they were right, I wasn't. I was one of those girls who didn't socialize nearly as much as I studied, and spent lunch in the library. People must've figured I was such a good girl that I didn't have it in me to say such misleading things. And I think that was exactly what drove me to do it. I could get away with it.
People thought my name was Iris Retina Cornea, and would be very confused when my real last name, Webber, was called out during attendance, and I would respond. I actually remember telling a group of people that my parents were optometrists, hence the name. The next thing I knew, I was being asked by my career education teacher if my parents would be willing to come and speak about their jobs. The problem was, I actually had a single dad who was not an optometrist, but a marketer for some boring business.
My mom died at my birth, and because of that I always felt some sort of resentment coming from my father. I knew he blamed me but would never show it. At least he tried to love me.
The situation I was in made it all the less difficult to leave home after I graduated and move into my own apartment in the city. I quickly found that people had much weirder names than Iris outside of my small down.
I actually can recall seeing the name tag of a server at a fast food place who, I swear on my life, was named Acromycra. Either her parents were professional disease namers or comedians.
Once I was on my own, I managed to get a job at a small record shop just a short walk away from my apartment. It was the type that hipsters would go to just so they could say to someone, 'So this afternoon I was at the record shop and-'
Lots of different types of people came though the shop, some old, some young, some teenagers just buying records to hang up on their bedroom walls for decoration. I found that quite stupid. What a waste of music.
As time went on, I made friends with another employee that worked most of the same shifts as me, Delilah.
She was a hippyish girl, no doubt. The way her long hair was unruly and cascading past her waist. Once in a while she would throw a flower behind her ear just to spice things up. She was always in some kind of maxi dress or skirt, never caught in closed toed shoes. The fact that we were the same age was irrelevant because she was such an old soul. Her hair was also a silvery platinum blonde. Sometimes I made fun of her my calling her Grandma.
So there I was, working my shift at the record shop with Delilah, waiting for my lunch break to come. It was empty at the moment, the only sound being the low hum of an old Frank Sinatra record playing. My favorite was Fly Me to the Moon for sure.
"Iris, we have to reorganize the sale section. All of those teenagers thrashed it when they stopped by." Delilah said to me.
"Sure thing, Grandma." I smirked, walking past her to take care of the mess. I could almost hear her rolling her eyes.
"You know, I could make a silly name up for you too." She threatened as she joined me. "I'm just above that."
"I'm sure you are."
Despite our banter throughout each day, Delilah and I were friends. We spent almost every day together, mostly making conversation about anything and everything that came up. Sometimes we would dance around to whatever was playing as we cleaned up, or in my case, attempted to.
We hummed along to the next Sinatra song that came on, bumping our hips with each other. To be perfectly honest, Delilah was the only friend I'd managed to make here. I only moved here four months ago, and it took me two to get settled in.
I heard the bell ring from the front of the store, meaning a new customer had come in. Turning around to see a familiar face, I tapped Delilah's shoulder and nudged my head toward him.
"Nate!" She squealed and ran across the store into his arms. I watched as the two of them spun around joyfully, laughing together. Nate was Delilah's boyfriend of two years. Every once in a while he'd come and see Delilah at work. Every time he visited, they acted like he just got back from fighting in a war or something.
Watching the couple interact with each other reminded me of the one boyfriend I had in high school, Carter. It was nice to have a boyfriend, an automatic date to every dance, someone to talk to in the hallway, but there was never that love that I longed for in a relationship. I liked him as a friend, really. And I think he felt the same way.
Delilah and Nate didn't remind me of my relationship with Carter because they were similar. They were actually the opposite. You could absolutely tell that they were in love, unlike us.
"Hey Iris." Nate waved over to me.
"Hey Nate." I smiled back before turning around so I could finish organizing the sale section. I figured it would just be awkward if I stood there and watched them be all lovey dovey. I had work to do anyway. Luckily, Wednesdays were always the emptiest.
I heard the bell on the door ring once again, but this time I didn't turn around. I heard Delilah greet the customer in a much more chipper voice than she was using five minutes ago.
Finally, Fly Me to the Moon came on, setting a switch off in my brain. A smile immediately appeared on my face as I quietly sang along. I wasn't sure what it was about this song that was so special, but it was definitely special. Sinatra was a legend.
After I finished organizing, I returned to the cash register where Delilah was. "Go take a lunch break." I insisted.
"Are you sure? I know you wanted to go get something to eat." She gave me a guilty look, but I waved it off.
"I'll be fine. Go ahead, really."
Delilah smiled and collected her things. "Thanks Iris, I owe you one."
Within a few minutes, the happy couple had gone and it was just me, Sinatra, and a customer who had his back to me, scanning through the selection of new arrivals. We got new shipments every two weeks, and usually didn't sell too many records, which meant the shop would have been jam packed if they hadn't hired a certain employee by the name of Iris Webber who happened to suggest that a plethora of bookshelves be purchased to store records along the walls to prevent cluttering.
I watched as the customer turned around, holding an old Peter Paul and Mary record, definitely not from the new arrivals section. He walked up to the checkout in silence, laying the record down in front of me.
"Hello, how are you today?" I asked politely.
"Good, thanks." The guy replied with a raspy tone in his voice. I looked up to meet a pair of brown eyes, and decided to scan the rest of his face. He was biting his plump lips with perfect teeth from what I could see. Something about this guy kept me staring. Maybe it was the scattered freckles across his caramel skin or his long eyelashes.
He didn't look any more than two years older then me. I wondered if he-
"So are you going to ring it up?" He raised his eyebrow.
I froze for a second before recollecting myself. "Oh yeah, I'm sorry." Taking the record into my hands, I scanned it and let him know what his total was.
"Usually I come here at night, and the guy that works here always looks at me like I'm about to steal something, but at least he doesn't spend two minutes checking me out." He laughed before dropping a twenty dollar bill on the counter and leaving with his record, not even waiting for change or a response.
I stood there in shock, not even knowing what to think about the fact that I had just stared openly at a customer for a matter of minutes. He was hot, I had to admit, and I guess hotness hindered my ability to do my very easy job.
Due to lack of work to be done in the store, I spent the rest of my shift thinking about that one moment, not knowing what to make of it. What I thought about most was the fact that I was thinking about it, and he probably just went on with his day without a second thought. By the end of my shift, I was beating myself up for over thinking everything.
"Delilah, I'm out of here." I called over my shoulder after I collected my things. My stomach was begging for some food since I skipped lunch so the two love birds could have their moment.
"See you tomorrow, Iris!" My friend called after me.
"I need food." I muttered to myself as I began to walk down the street hurriedly.
I knew of a great Chinese spot that was always nice and quiet. Since it was usually somewhat empty, the food came quickly. That was exactly what I needed. I crossed the street and made my way to the small restaurant.
When I finally got to my destination I was a little more than slightly sweaty from my speed walking, my breathing was abnormal to say the least, and I practically knocked into three different waiters.The hostess who always wore a bright smile still welcomed me despite my frazzled state.
"Table for one?" She asked knowingly. I nodded and followed her to a booth since almost everything was available. I wondered why this place was always so empty. It could be the fact that my shift ended at eight, long after most people ate dinner.
I scanned the menu, despite the fact that I knew I was ordering Lo Mein and cream cheese wontons as always.
It did feel a little bit like déjà vu, going through this same routine at least once a week.
But just as I started to think that, something completely different happened. Something that I would never forget. For the rest of my life.